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Going Back to the Beach by DJMac

On November 14, 2015 By Gerry Webber
Going Back to the Beach 1961 I’m carried down the steep cliff path Cradled in the surf’s whisper, Butter-ball sun over the bay; Dad’s panting is a deep drum beat. The going down seems long; No steps, just sand and dirt and rock Into the belly of the earth Eyes heavy then silence sweeps in [...]
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Lament for Jean McConville by Anne Pia

On August 13, 2015 By Gerry Webber
Lament for Jean McConville (b.1934 Belfast d. 1972) Cry, city cry, at the story of your Jean at the orphaning of children; not for Palestine, or the Holcaust not for the mothers of Syria or the children of Iraq but cry for your own generations and your lore cry for each August, for your clockwork [...]
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5 Short Verses by John Lanigan

On July 26, 2015 By Gerry Webber
5 Short Verses The white foc`sl of an enormous liner grandstanding off Largs A bus-shelter roof and matted vegetation accumulating Tractor mud decomposed: two days ago perhaps it was neat chevrons Windless day, and smoke rising sculptural from a factory chimney Dusk, and found by a thin cold sunbeam a single tree glints
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Remembering the A68 by Anne Pia

On June 25, 2015 By Gerry Webber
Remembering the A68 How well I remember this way and this road we chose for our night escapes, our journeys south the promise of Scotch Corner the smooth, easy tarmac finally of the M1 its warming lights adding glitz to your glamour to your legs and your lipstick, to my fine cropped style, my trophy [...]
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A woman’s work by Gillian Munro

On April 28, 2015 By Gerry Webber
A woman’s work Small clothes Crumpled, grubby from a day of paint and play. Man’s clothes Clammy, worn from a day of work and strain. And yet – The daily chore is mine. Sweaty socks swarm to my room Tights fall short on the stair Pants pool about the basket Shirts lurk within I sleep [...]
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The Rainbow by Elizabeth Petrie

On April 19, 2015 By Gerry Webber
The Rainbow They say you never reach your rainbow, the one that you can see. You cannot breach its scarlet rim and pause, encased in amber, before your yellowed strides grow green when, blue-rinsed, you stand, stretch an indigo drenched hand and watch your fingertips drip vivid violet. But when I glance up from my [...]
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Sparkplug by DJ Mac

On April 6, 2015 By Gerry Webber
Sparkplug That manky dug, Dirty wee bugger, Did his business Oan ma lawn. Ah offered the owner An Asda bag But she wusnae interested, ‘It’ll be good fur the roses,’ says she, But ah can tell she widnae know A dandelion fae a dahlia. ‘For your information,’ says I, ‘Them’s no roses; Them’s blades o’ [...]
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The Rohingya by William Jones (Binge Inkers Guest Artist)

On March 29, 2015 By Gerry Webber
The Rohingya Morning child opens mouth and gasps Not at the beauty of the sun Arching above, royally radiant Due to the sight of flamed forest Frightening screams of family Running for their existence Chased by gun toting monsters Faces framed by long standing Hatred of otherness The child’s screams wakes The mother,thin malnourished A [...]
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My Line Manager by Martin Redfern

On March 8, 2015 By Gerry Webber
My line manager is fair and honest. The water cooler will be fixed, the replacement photocopier will arrive, the canteen menu will soon include sushi and last quarter’s numbers won’t mean redundancies. My line manager’s always punctual for meetings, and has more than a thirty second attention span. He wouldn’t patronise junior colleagues and doesn’t [...]
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Russian Girls, 1989 by Rose France

On March 23, 2014 By djmac
On the streets, trams and metro trains, they bend their heads to whisper...
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Exercise by Rose France

On March 18, 2014 By djmac
Hard landscape and dark geography threaten to overwhelm in Rose Francis' short poem. But there is hope.
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  • An anthology of modern short fiction recounting the quirkiness of the everyday, featuring DJ Mac and others.
  • DJ Mac is a writer based in Edinburgh, Scotland who fouters (dithers) with an itchy, scratchy pen in the moments when the bewilderment provoked by life settles. He is easily distracted by the bright pictures in his gallery.
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